Another feet poem I wrote a while back.

Daddy’s Feet

Daddy’s feet
took him hunting:
rabbits, squirrel, deer, turkey.
Daddy’s feet
took him fishing:
bass, trout, pike, walleye.
Daddy’s feet took him planting:
potatoes, corn, beans, squash, tomatoes.
Daddy’s feet took him mowing
mowing, mowing, and mowing.
Daddy’s feet took him working,
working hard at the steel mill
every day for many years, earning pay
for his wife and five girls.
One day, Daddy’s feet took him
across wet paint.
I couldn’t stop him, because
of his Alzheimer’s disease.
Daddy didn’t understand why I tried
to keep him from going up the steps.
He got mad at me and continued on.
By the time he reached the living room carpet
the paint had worn off. I was able,
with a little Lestoil, to get the paint off
the kitchen tile. But the footprints on
the threshold were there to stay,
reminding me of Daddy’s feet.